Blame
by Imaginigma
Summary: After Aragorn's taxing experiences in a small village, he finally reaches Imladris and reunites with his family. But when his secret is revealed the reactions of his family are not what he had anticipated. Part Three White Lie Trilogy
1. 1 False Appearances

**Title:** Blame

**Rating**: K+

**Warning: Part three of the "White Lie" trilogy. **I strongly advise to read **"Broken Trust"** before reading this story. But if you are bold and daring, you can jump into the deep water and give it a try on its own. Small reference to part one of the series, **"Borderline"**. _(1. Borderline; 2. Broken Trust; 3. Blame )_

**Disclaimer:** Alas, I do own nothing in connection with The Lord of the Rings. I make no money with this story.

**Summary:** After his taxing experience in a small town in the wilderness with his rangers, Aragorn finally reaches Imladris, but the peace and quiet he so yearns for lies beyond his reach, as his brothers Elladan and Elrohir reveal the secret he tried to hide. And things turn even worse, when their trust in him begins to crumple, and Aragorn has to face not only his own uncertainties, but that of his family as well.

**A/N:**

Gwanur: Brother (by blood) (I take it the twins call Aragorn gwanur and not gwador; he is family, after all)

Gwanur nin: my brother

°°°°°** Chapter 1: False appearances**

The chirping of a bird reached his ears as Aragorn made his way over the cobblestone courtyard that would lead him to the huge double doors of the Last Homely House. The place was covered in fresh snow, and not even his keen eyes could detect any footprints or signs that would indicate that someone had been out already, on this sunny morning. The air was cold despite the sun, but Aragorn did not care about it overly much. He was home, finally.

The trip to Imladris had taken him longer than he had planned, but, he mused, he could be glad to have reached his destination at all. With every day the welts and cuts on his back had ached fiercer, and more than once he had been forced to rest his tired and aching body. Under normal circumstances, the fifteen whiplashes that adorned his back would not have bothered him such, but he travelled alone and without any healing supplies or enough food. Not for the first time since he had parted company with his rangers at the Bruinen, Aragorn cursed the village men who were responsible for his pain. Nevertheless, the stronger part of him did not blame them, but only his own folly. It had been one of his rangers who had stolen the apples, after all.

Sighing and trying to shift his pack on his back in such a manner that it would ease the pain and failing miserably, Aragorn ascended the broad stairs that led to the wooden doors of the Last Homely House. He took another deep breath, and then knocked. A strange thing to do, considering that it was his home, but he wanted to surprise his family and see their faces when they opened the door. They knew that he was bound to come home, but nevertheless…

While he waited, Aragorn once more thought about his current situation. The punishment he had received in the small village had left his back on fire, and the welts and bleeding cuts were probably infected, although he had no fever. Every movement he made hurt his back and he wanted nothing more than to stop the fiery pain. But still, he did not wish his family to know he was hurt – again.

Aragorn knew that they would be worried enough because of the thinness of his body and his tiredness, not to mention the bad state his clothing was in. The winter had been hard, and there had simply not been enough food to eat, or time, strength and will to care for more than surviving. No, he thought, his outward appearance was enough to send his brothers into mother hen modus. There was no telling what they would do, should they learn of the welts on his back.

But that was not all, and Aragorn knew it. Should he tell his family of his injuries, they would want to know how he came about them. And what should he tell them then? That one of his men, a mere boy, had stolen food from an old innkeeper, because Aragorn had not been able to supply his rangers with enough food? Should he tell them that he, as Chieftain, had taken the punishment upon himself to spare the boy, and that he still felt that it was –somehow- his fault the boy had stolen the goods? Should he tell them that he had failed as Chieftain in his duty to lead his men? That the boy had not trusted him enough to consult him, to speak to him about his problems? No, he could not tell them all that.

He was home, a place that he associated with peace and happy laughter, with embarrassing tales and voices lifted in song. And as the door creaked open and he beheld the surprised face of his brother Elrohir, his decision stood strong. He would enjoy his stay at home, relax and replenish his strength in the company of those he loved. There was no need to disturb his family's happiness that he was finally home with the sight of the bloody welts that scarred his back, was there?

"Estel!" The next moment the surprised face showed a happy smile and Aragorn found himself engulfed in the strong arms of his brother, who lifted him from the ground and spun him around like a four year old.

Agony shot up his back and took his breath, and for a moment Aragorn feared that his brother would notice. But Elrohir was still laughing in simple joy, and when he returned Aragorn to the firm ground, the ranger had steeled his featured into a mask of painlessness.

Laughing with his brother, Aragorn commented, "Had I known that I get a free ride upon my arrival, I would have come sooner, Ro!" referring to the fact that as a child, his foster brothers had often 'given him a ride'. They had lifted him from the ground and whirled him through the air until he they had all collapsed in helpless laughter, too dizzy to keep standing.

"It is good to see you, little brother. But where have you been so long? We've been waiting for more than a week now. Were you not known for your tardiness, we would have started worrying."

Just as Aragorn was about to answer, he heard a familiar whoop of joy coming from behind him. Turning, he found himself hugged by his other brother. Elladan wound his long arms around his upper body and pressed him to his chest, patting his back for good measure.

"Estel, you little sloth, finally you have come. It was way too still here without you!"

Grimacing at the pain that erupted in his back, but biting back the scream of pain that wanted to escape his lips, Aragorn returned his brother's hug and then gently drew back from the crushing embrace.

"And it is good to see you too, Dan. Still as outspoken as ever, I see."

Laughing, Elrohir slung an arm around Aragorn's shoulders and steered him into the house. "Yes, and do you know what Estel? Dan has managed to insult Erestor! Can you believe that? And not only that he insulted Erestor, he did it in front of a delegation of Lothlorien Elves!"

Elladan shot a death glare at Elrohir, closed the door loud enough to wake the trolls in the Misty Mountains, and then hissed agitatedly, "I did not insult Erestor. It was merely a misunderstanding!"

"Sure, Dan. Of course it was. How many weeks of stable duty do you still have?"

The look that Elladan gave his brother was enough to make Aragorn laugh, and as they made their way up the stairs to the study of Lord Elrond, he almost forgot about the painful welts on his back. Indeed, it was good to be home.

Without bothering to knock, Elrohir swung open the door to his father's study and actually pushed Aragorn into the room, grinning from ear to ear. "Ada, look what the weather dragged in!"

When the Lord of Imladris looked up from his letter, his face brightened and he exclaimed warmly, "Estel. It is good to see you my son, it has been too long." Elrond stood to his feet, made it to his human son's side and embraced him in a fatherly hug.

Again, Aragorn winced as the welts on his back that only just started to heal were again strained, but he was so glad to be home and happy to see his family, that he held his father close and smiled in genuine happiness.

Then, Elrond drew back and held his son at arms length, scanning his appearance from head to foot. And Aragorn could tell that what he saw did not appeal to him. His father arched one of his delicate eyebrows and tilted his head to the side. For a moment Aragorn feared that his father had somehow found out that he was in pain, but the softly spoken words relieved him of that worry.

"I see the winter has been hard for the rangers. You are way too thin, ion nin, you are more bones than flesh. But we will change that as long as you are here. I deem it you are tired and exhausted from your journey, you look nearly frozen, Estel. Your room has been prepared for you. And after you have rested and eaten, there is still enough time to bicker with your brothers." Elrond gave a wink at him, and only then did Aragorn notice that Elladan and Elrohir were snickering behind his back.

Turning and giving them a sharp look, the two stopped giggling instantly, and put on their most innocent faces. By the age of six Aragorn had known to never trust one of the twins when he wore that particular innocent face. He could tell by the tips of their noses that they had planned something for him.

Placing a hand on Aragorn's shoulder, Elrond wagged his finger at the twins, "You let him get some sleep and a decent meal before you start pestering him. Understand?"

Elladan grinned only wider and Elrohir nodded his head so vigorously that one of his braids loosened and dark hair fell into his face. Aragorn heard his father sigh, and then mutter under his breath about immature elflings, before he gave Aragorn another smile and then returned to his desk.

While Aragorn emptied his travelling pack and stored his few belongings in the cupboard in his room, he could not help but smile at the twins' antics. They had, of course, pestered him the moment he had closed his father's study door, and bombarded him with so many questions about his time with the rangers and the world outside the gates of Imladris, that he had not been able to answer all of them.

The twins had then left him to refresh after his journey, their faces beaming with joy about the fact that their little brother had finally found his way home after the many months of his absence. And indeed, it had been long, Aragorn mused as he poured some water into a washbasin that stood on his nightstand. The last time he had been home had been in spring the last year, so almost a whole year had passed sine he had seen his family. Not a long time considering his years in Rohan and Gondor, but long enough for all of them to miss each other.

Aragorn sat down on his bed and began to pull off his wet boots, struggling with the leather strings that were swollen due to the melting snow, but finally able to pull them off his frozen feet. His tunic and wet leggings followed swiftly, and when he pulled on clean leggings, Aragorn already felt his cold body begin to warm. Of course, the blazing fire in the hearth of his room helped the matter of warming his frozen body as well.

Turning, he took the small pot from the fire and felt the temperature of the water with his fingers. It was warm, but not hot, the perfect temperature for cleaning wounds. Placing the pot on his nightstand near the washbasin, Aragorn slowly shrugged out of his under tunic. He could feel the tightness of the bandages around his chest, but that did not help against the pain that flared to new life in his back when he moved his arms or rolled his shoulders.

When the shirt finally landed on the floor, Aragorn sighed with relief. Never had he thought that the little task of removing his shirt would hurt that much, and the even more taxing task lay still ahead. With gentle but weary fingers, he loosened the bandage around his chest, and slowly but steadily unwound the cloths. In dismay he saw that parts of the bandage were coloured in brown and a deep red; the welts had bled through the bandage and some had been reopened when his family had embraced him.

Aragorn did not hold them accountable for that, it was his fault, because he had not told them. He winced as he removed the last layer of cloths from his back, it had stuck to the skin and more likely than not he had reopened a welt when he had taken off the bandage. But it could not be helped now, and so Aragorn threw the soiled bandage into the burning flames and turned back to his nightstand.

He lifted his head, and when he saw his reflection in the mirror that hung above the nightstand, he sighed deeply. His face was pale, almost white, his cheeks sunken and his eyes dulled. Dark circles framed his eyes and his hair was such a mess that he asked himself for a moment how he was ever supposed to clean and comb it.

The man that stared back at him from the mirror looked thin and ill, not at all the strong ranger that he usually was. Aragorn closed his eyes for a moment; he did not even want to think about what his family had thought when they had seen him. Probably that he was half dead on his feet. Although, Aragorn thought bitterly, it was not that far from the truth, judging by the horrible pain that crawled on clawed paws across his back.

Sighing, Aragorn opened his eyes, took up a washcloth from the nightstand and dipped it into the pot with the warm water. He did not know when his brothers would be back to pester him, and he knew that he had better get started with cleaning and bandaging his aching back.

Aragorn turned so that he could get a look at his back in the mirror, and gasped. What he saw was not what he had expected, and in shock he lightly touched one of the welts that cut his shoulder. Eyes wide, he stared at his complexion in the mirror, disbelief written across his features. In his life he had seen and endured more than one beating, but never before had he seen something like this.

The welts on his back were some days old by now; the edges of some had already began to heal, but most of them still looked fresh and ugly. Some were red and inflamed, dried blood crusting the edges of the cuts. Purple and blue bruises marred his flesh, and here and there he could see that the whip had cut so deep that the flesh needed stitching.

But that was not what had shocked him. No, what had shocked him was the cruel precision with which the welts had been created on his back. They were not criss-crossing his back like he had thought they would, overlapping and meeting each other. No, there were fifteen cuts on his back, one next to the other, creating a neat pattern of welts, from shoulder to shoulder. With sudden insight Aragorn thought that the man who had wielded the lash with such an accuracy, had not done that for the first time; and his punishment could have been much worse.

Nevertheless, should someone see this cuts, they would know that it had not been a beating in rage or hate, but that it had been a calculated flogging, with a steady hand and a strong purpose behind it.

Shaking his head slightly and forcibly averting his eyes from his reflection in the mirror, Aragorn began to clean the welts on his shoulders and lower back, leaving the cuts on his upper back untouched; it hurt too much to move his arms to reach them. The water in the small pot turned red, and when it was the shade of wild cherries, Aragorn finally let the washcloth rest in the pot.

With fingers trembling from pain and exhaustion, he wrapped his chest in clean bandages. The herbs that had steeped in the water should numb the pain soon, and at the same time fight any infection and fever.

Aragorn waited with closed eyes and ragged breathing until the fiery pain subsided somewhat and his wildly beating heart choose to follow a slower rhythm, before he made his way over to his closet and donned a loose fitting tunic that would conceal the bandages and not chafe his wounds too much.

Cleaning all signs that he had treated more than some blisters from his nightstand, he cleaned his face and hair the best he could. His brothers had not returned yet, but he had no doubt that they would sooner or later come and drag him into some mischief. He could as well seek them out and get it over with, he thought. And after that, he would return to his room and finally rest his tired body; the bed had been so soft and inviting when he had sat on it!

Before Aragorn left his room, he glanced in the mirror once more to make sure that the white bandages were hidden under the tunic. The man that now stared back at him was even paler, the skin nearly as white as the snow outside, the lips pale and the eyes a dull grey. But, Aragorn mused sarcastically, at least I am clean now.

He took a deep breath, turned and left his room to find his brothers. While he made his way down the stairs that led to the entrance hall, he noticed with relief that the pain in his back slowly numbed as the herbs took effect. His slumped shoulders straightened, his step became stronger and the lines of pain and weariness vanished from his features.

And when he stepped into the Hall of Fire and found his brothers bend over a game of chess, there was no trace left of any pain or uneasiness on his features or in his appearance.

Tbc...

**This is chapter one. What do you think?**


	2. 2 Painful revelations

_A/N: Hello! Wow, I am overwhelmed by all the reviews! So many! YAY! I am glad to hear that you like the story. So, here is chaper two, enjoy. :o)_

°°°°°** Chapter 2: Painful revelation**

The risen sun painted the white cliff walls a wonderful shade of yellow, reflected on the spray of the waterfalls and created moving patterns across the walls of Aragorn's room. He had been too tired the night before to shut the curtains; the meal his father had made him eat had been light, but given his nearly starved condition it had lain heavy in his stomach and had almost tired him more than his brothers' endless bickering. Aragorn had already napped in his chair in front of the flickering flames in the Hall of Fire, when his father had silenced the twins and send him to bed; for once, Aragorn had not complained that his father treated him like a child.

Once in his room, he had shrugged in his sleeping tunic, crawled into his bed and immediately fallen asleep, so exhausted was his body. He had been so tired that he had not even noticed his father slipping into his room and rekindle the fire, or his brothers spreading some more blankets over his sleeping form to keep him warm in the night.

Now, the sun shone warmly into his room, chasing away the shadows of the night and slowly waking Aragorn out of his deep and dreamless sleep. He was still not fully awake and his mind still rested in peaceful slumber, when the door to his room slowly opened. Two dark haired heads peeked in, and a second later Elladan and Elrohir sneaked noiselessly into the room.

They stepped up to the bed and beheld their sleeping brother. During the night, Aragorn had somehow managed to bury himself so deep in the blankets and pillows that only the top of his head was visible, the unruly dark hair contrasting starkly against the still pale skin; but the twins noted that some colour had returned to their brother's face, and the skin was not as white as freshly fallen snow any longer.

Grinning at each other, they nodded and with a loud scream of "Morning!", they jumped on their sleeping brother, intend on waking the slumbering human. It was not the first time that they woke Aragorn in this manner, actually, they had done it more times than they could count.

Elrohir landed on Aragorn's legs, pinning them under his weight, and Elladan landed squarely on Aragorn's upper body, therewith turning the man who had slept on his side so that he now lay on his stomach and Elladan on his back.

But although the twins had done this many times, never before had they garnered such a reaction from their brother. Aragorn screamed out loud in pure pain, arching his back and unconsciously trying to throw the twins off of his body.

Shocked, Elrohir scrambled from Aragorn's legs and Elladan rolled from the man's back, but the damage had already been done. The twins heard the shuddering breaths of their brother and saw the tightly closed eyes and the fine sheen of sweat that stood on his brow. Changing a questioning and worried look, Elladan knelt beside the bed and whispered, "Estel?"

Pain, that was all that his mind registered. Hot white agony tore through his back and woke him from his sleep. The loud scream still echoed in his ears, and Aragorn felt ashamed for letting his guard down and expressing his pain in such a way.

He felt cold sweat appear on his forehead and the shudders that raced through his whole body. The pounding of his racing heart hurt in his chest and his rapid breathing slowed only slowly. Only when the soft voice of Elladan reached his ears did Aragorn notice that, indeed, it had been the twins who had woken him in such a manner. Instantly, he knew that his secret had been revealed, or would be in only some minutes. There was no way now that the twins would not find out.

But, Aragorn did not want them to know, did not want them to see the ugly wounds on his back and be told why he had been hurt in such a way. Forcing his racing heart to return to its normal steady rhythm and taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was Elladan's worried face that hovered only inches in front of his own, concerned brown eyes meeting his own steely grey ones. A quick look told Aragorn that Elrohir was not far away, standing at Elladan's side and looking as worried as his brother.

"Estel?"

He swallowed. What should he say? Certainly they would not believe him if he said that he was fine, which he was not, of course. The pain in his back had subsided somewhat, but he still did not dare to move, out of fear to trigger a new wave of intense pain.

Only when Elladan reached out and placed his fingers against his cheek and then neck, did Aragorn realize that he had not yet answered his brother, who had already called him twice. Turning his head slightly, he locked eyes with Elladan and said, "I'm all right, gwanur. I was just surprised, that's all."

The look that both his brothers gave him was enough to tell him that they did not believe a word he had said. And truth be told, had the places been switched, he would not have believed it either. His voice sounded strained and weak in his own ears.

"Estel, what is it? Where are you hurt?"

Of course, Aragorn thought. He knew his brothers well enough to know that they would not rest until they knew why he had screamed in pain. But still, a part of him still clung stubbornly to the small hope that he could hide his injuries from his family. He knew it would hurt them deeply to see him thus wounded.

Aragorn rolled over slightly and sat up. The cuts on his back released such a fierce wave of pain that his face blanched, but he effectively help back a moan and made sure that his features did not betray him.

But of course, his brothers saw the pain in his eyes, and immediately they both huddled closer to him. Sighing inwardly, Aragorn wished not for the first time in his life that his family was not so perceptive when it came to hurts of all kinds.

He escaped Elrohir's hand that tried to stop him by a mere inch and climbed out of the bed on the other side. Ignoring the worried and suspicious looks on his brothers' faces, he made his way over to his cupboard and pulled out a tunic and some leggings as if nothing had happened, trying to ignore the pain that raced across his back.

Worry swung in Elrohir's voice, and immediately Aragorn felt guilty, "Estel, we only want to help you. Tell us, were are you hurt, gwanur nin?"

Sighing inwardly, Aragorn realized that there was no way he could make the twins believe that he was not hurt, but perhaps he could convince them that it was not worth bothering. Therefore, he shrugged his shoulders and said while releasing a deep breath, "It is not worth bothering, really. It was treated and is nearly healed. I was just unprepared, that was all."

Too late he realized that he had said the wrong thing. At his last words, the twins simultaneously rose from the bed and advanced on him, intend on seeing the wound and finding out what had happened to their little brother that would cause him so much pain that he needed to be 'prepared' before touched.

Aragorn moved backwards until he felt the cupboard in his back.

"Let us see the injury, Estel. If it is nearly healed as you claim, it won't hurt to let us have a look at it." With that, Elladan reached out as if to lift Aragorn's tunic.

To his own surprise, anger welled inside of him, and before he knew what he was doing, he batted his brother's hand away, escaped their hands and retreated towards his bed. "It heals, now leave it will you?"

But his brothers loved him and cared for him, and would not be dissuaded from their worry so easily. And furthermore, they knew Aragorn nearly all his life, and smelled it when he hid something from them. And the behaviour he now presented, spoke of a great secret - a wound that needed tending, but that Aragorn was too stubborn to show.

Exasperation tainted Elladan's voice now, "Estel, don't be that thick-headed. Let us have a quick look to make sure you are well."

"I am well. I can take care of myself, thank you."

Elrohir sighed deeply, and changed the tactic. He had always been the more sensitive of the twins and therefore he said, "Please Estel. It would ease our hearts to know that you are not hurt seriously."

"Can you not simply believe my words? I already told you I am well."

Aragorn felt his anger rise, but it was not only directed at his brothers, but towards himself as well. Why had he not taken some numbing herbs before falling asleep? Or why had he not gotten up earlier, or locked his door, or simply shut up when his brothers had jumped on the bed? He knew that the twins could not be blamed for worrying about him, but, by the Valar, he was no child anymore! Could they not, at least one time, take his word on something? Did they always have to mother him?

With an annoyed sigh he gestured towards the door, "I am fine, all right? Now would you please be so kind as to give me some privacy, I need to change."

Elrohir gave him a sad look and shook his head while he went to the door. He knew that Aragorn was hiding some injury, but he felt that if his brother was unwilling to let them see it, he would not force him to.

Elladan, on the other hand, had other plans. He followed his brother to the door, but when he was directly in front of Aragorn, he spun on his heel, muttered an "I'm sorry", grabbed Aragorn's shoulders and forcibly threw him into the soft covers of his bed.

Aragorn was so surprised by that move, that he did not resist his brother's hands, and only after a groan escaped his lips did he realize that he had closed his eyes in pain. Snapping his eyes open, he instantly tried to push his brother off of him, but Elladan would have none of it.

He had not only heard the groan, but seen his brother's face flinch in pain, and he would not back down now. In his opinion, his brother's wrath was worth his brother's well being.

Keeping a firm grip on Aragorn's shoulders and straddling the man via his own body, he said sharply, "Estel, stop it! I only want to help you!"

But Aragorn did not stop struggling, as the pain in his back reached new levels. Elladan was not as strongly build as he was, and an elf was light, but even the weight of his brother caused the wounds on his back to roar with agony.

"Get off of me!"

"No! Estel, tell me where you are hurt, for I do not want to cause you more pain. Can you not see that I only want to help you?"

"If you want to help me, then get off of me!"

Sweat was now drenching his sleeping tunic, and the pain in his back so fierce that his heart pounded wildly in his chest. Elladan could hold him down with ease, as his own strength had not yet returned to him after the long and hard winter, the journey to Imladris and the cruel punishment.

Aragorn felt his strength leaving him, and he knew that he had no chance of winning against his brother. Desperate, he wriggled under Elladan, now more than ever wishing to get free. But his brother would not let him go, and the struggle sapped Aragorn's strength.

His anger suddenly turned into desperation, and a painful pang pierced his heart. He did not want his brothers to see the wounds on his back, he did not want to see their shocked faces and hear their voices speak in sympathy to him. He did not want to tell them that he had failed his rangers so that he had been forced to take the punishment upon himself. What would his brothers think about him, should they learn that a simple town's man had done that to him, because of a young, inexperienced ranger who had no trust in his Chieftain and the rangers in general?

A lump formed in his throat, and he felt all the strength he had left leave his body. Tears pricked at his eyes, but he willed them away. Pain, exhaustion and inner turmoil finally broke through his defences and a sob rose in his throat.

With a voice full of emotion, he tried one last time to throw his brother off of him, "Elladan, please!"

"No!" The elder twin had finally enough of his struggling sibling, and with a resolute movement he flipped Aragorn over onto his stomach. Either he had not seen the change in the man or misinterpreted it, and annoyed beyond measure by his brother's refusal to be helped, he pinned Aragorn arms above his head with one hand reached for the hem of the nightshirt. Of course, Elladan could not be sure that the wound was on Aragorn's back, but from the man's behaviour it was very likely.

Aragorn could not resist any longer. His muscles went slack and he buried his face in the many pillows and blankets. Tears stung his eyes, from pain, exhaustion and heartache, and his voice was pleading, "Dan, please, no. Please."

But Elladan did not heed his words, and with a quick motion he lifted the night shirt. Suddenly, the room went very quiet. No sound was heard, and nothing moved. Then, slowly, Elrohir went to stand beside his brothers, and then his voice filled the stillness, "By Elbereth, Estel, what happened?"

Aragorn could not answer, for he knew that his brothers only saw the bandages that were covering his entire upper body, and had not yet seen what was hidden by them. Suddenly, he felt his arms being released and the weight atop his body vanish.

"Estel, I did not mean to…I would never hurt you, you know that. Brother, I…I am so sorry." Elladan let the night shirt fall back so that it covered Aragorn's back again, but the ranger knew that there was no turning back now. His brothers would want to see what was under the bandages, and he had not the strength to stop them.

Elladan was too shocked to move, but Elrohir, always the more perceptive and gentle of the twins, took a seat on the edge of the bed and began to gently move his fingers through Aragorn's tousled hair.

"Estel?"

No answer. No movement.

"Estel, you know we would never hurt you. We love you, and we want to help you. Please, let me take a look at your wounds, to make sure that we have not worsened them. It would ease our hearts to know that you are all right."

It was trap, a very mean trap, and Aragorn knew it. How could he deny his brothers the comfort of knowing that they had not worsened his injuries? He could not, and they knew it, too. Aragorn knew that his brothers would see the wounds on his back this way or the other, and if he did not show them now, they would tell their father, and then get a look at them when Elrond examined his back.

So, he only nodded weakly, and lay still as his brother lifted the shirt once more, and then gently began to peel away the bandages. With every layer that fell away, his breathing quickened and his heart rate increased. Too soon he felt the last layer of cloth being lifted and heard his brothers' audible gasp of denial.

Burying his face even deeper into the folds of the bedding, Aragorn wished for it to end. He thought he could feel his brothers' eyes roam over his ravaged back, leaving nothing out and immediately pitying him.

He could have never imagined how wrong he was in that assumption.

"Estel, what did you do to earn a sentence such as this?" Elladan sounded angry.

Too surprised to answer, Aragorn lay motionless for a moment, and then the barely controlled voice of Elrohir reached his ears, "These are wounds from a crime punishment, I have seen such injuries before. What did you do? How comes our brother bears the wounds of a severe crime upon his back, for such a sentence is not executed idly."

Aragorn did not know what to say. Yes, he had received these wounds as a punishment, and that was why he had not wanted his brothers to know. But, he had never thought, not in his wildest dreams, that Elladan and Elrohir would become angry. And that they actually thought he had committed a crime and deserved the flogging.

Had his brothers no trust in him at all? Did they really think he had wronged someone? With wide eyes, he turned his head to look at them, and when he saw their stony faces, he recoiled inwardly. Never had he seen his brothers look at him like this, as if he was not worth their care and love.

Swallowing, he said, "Dan, Ro, it is not as you think. Let me explain…"

"There is nothing to explain," Elladan cut him off roughly. "I have eyes to see. Now I understand why you did not want us to know, why you hid your wounds from us. I…never had thought that my brother would become a criminal."

"Elladan, it is not as you think. I…"

"I do not want to hear what you have to say. I know that whatever you did, it was a grave crime to deserve such a punishment. How could you, Estel?"

And with that, Elladan stormed from the room, swinging the door open so wildly that it banged loudly against the wall. Stunned, Aragorn watched as his brother stormed off, and then turned his eyes on Elrohir.

The younger twin stood rooted to the spot for a moment, gazing down at Aragorn with an expression the man could not read. Then, in a voice so unlike his normal fair and happy tone, he asked flatly,

"Was it a crime sentence?"

"Yes."

Elrohir drew a deep breath before he asked his next question, the one that would decide on who's side he stood,

"Estel, did you deserve it?"

Aragorn did not answer for a long moment. No, he had not committed the crime for which he had been punished, but he still felt guilty for not helping his young ranger, who had stolen the goods. And in his opinion, he had deserved the punishment, yes, because he had failed as Chieftain.

But he needed not to answer the question, Elrohir read the answer in his eyes. With a sad nod of his head, he averted his eyes from Aragorn, moved to the door, stepped out into the hallway and then closed the door silently behind him.

The click of the door as it met the frame was for Aragorn more deafening than anything else. It seemed so final. Aragorn had no strength to bandage his upper body once again, he had not even the strength to get up. So, he simply turned over, facing away from the door and shut his burning eyes.

The sun shone on his face, but he felt not the warmth or the comfort. All he felt was that his world had somehow turned upside down. All the uncertainties that he had harboured since the incident with Rogondil and the theft by Cederic increased tenfold, and all his fears and worries seemed to wash over him in a huge wave that wanted to drown him.

He could not breathe, all air had left his body and he trembled slightly. Chocking, Aragorn felt the world dim before his eyes and the trembling increased until his muscles cramped. His back hurt terribly and his heart beat so wildly that it hurt in his chest. The air that he forced into his lungs burned, but he could do nothing to calm his body. Minutes went by, and slowly, the tension left his body, his breathing evened out, and he fell into a deep exhausted sleep.

Tbc...

* * *

Please review! Somehow I get the feeling that the charachters become Out of Charachter... Well, I try my very best. I hope you like this second chapter. There are three more to come, so5 in total. :o) 


	3. 3 Deaf Ears

**Warning: This story should be considered AU and OOC!** _But, I deleted most of the story and wrote three new chapters, so I will try to bring the twins and Elrond out of OOC - status and back to normal. Although, I think this little excurse to OOC land has its merits. And, I was tired of the usual plotlines in which Aragorn comes home wounded and all mother him to no end. Elves are onlyliving beings, after all and not perfect. They have theirfailures and character issues as well. Elladan and Elrohir might have their reasons to behave as theydo, butstill, even I think they are way too OOC. But, Ikind of like it for once.And somehow I have a feeling as if you like the little OOC-scenes as well._** Keep telling me what you like and what not!**

°°°°°** Chapter 3: Deaf ears**

The first thing Aragorn became aware of upon waking, was that he was still alone. His room was silent and he could not feel the presence of someone else. When his gaze wandered to the window and the position of the sun, he saw that it was still morning, although some hours had passed since the twins had woken him.

Aragorn felt drained and utterly spend. His body had stopped trembling and his breathing and heartbeat had returned to normal, but he felt weak and cold. Painful memories came rushing back to him; he saw his brothers' faces and could hear their words in his ears; but there was not enough strength in his body left to fight these images.

Biting his lip, he slowly scrambled out of his bed and made his way over to his nightstand. One look at his back told him that indeed some of the cuts had reopened, but they had already stopped bleeding. Taking up some fresh cloths, he began to bandage his upper body, a task that he was suddenly loath to do.

But his mind was blank as he tied the bandages in place, changed his clothing and stepped out of his room. He did not know where his feet carried him, until he suddenly stood in front of Elladan's room.

Only then did Aragorn feel the urge to talk to his brothers, to tell them everything that had happened and the circumstances that had led to his wounds. They needed to understand what had happened, surely when they heard what he had to say they would think differently of the matter.

He lifted his arm to knock on the door, but before he could knock the agitated voice of his oldest brother reached his ears through the thick wood. Aragorn leaned forwards a bit to understand what was being said. He hated eavesdropping, but in this situation he could not stop himself from pressing his ear against the wood and listen.

Inside the room, Elladan paced agitatedly, while Elrohir stood near the window, arms crossed before his chest.

"Elladan, calm down. You will only rip the carpet."

"How can you be so calm, Ro? You have seen the wounds on his back! And you know what it means."

Elrohir sighed deeply, "Aye, I know. We are discussing this for hours already, brother."

"And he truly told you that he deserved the punishment?" Elladan sounded like someone who not wanted to believe what he had already been told.

Elrohir nodded solemnly, and then swallowed thickly, "He did not confess it, but his eyes belied him."

Elladan stopped in his pacing and faced his brother with an incredulous look upon his face. "He denied it?"

"Well Elladan, he did not deny it, but he did not expressly say that he deserved it either."

Elladan resumed his pacing and said agitatedly, "Never had I thought that he would become a criminal. No wonder he was loath to show us his wounds. Have we taught him nothing? Have we not time and again sat with him and told him what is right and what wrong? And here I thought our brother was a good man, a honourable man!"

"Dan, you do not know what he did. Perhaps there is an explanation for it…"

"I can tell by your voice that you do not believe that yourself, Elrohir. There are not many crimes that warrant a punishment such as that. Have you counted the welts on his back, Ro, have you?"

The younger of the twins nodded, and then gazed out of the window. "I have, and I know you have as well. It must have hurt terribly."

Elladan snorted, "He deserved it, he said so. What do you think he has done? Killed some farmers cow? Stolen some horses? Lain with someone else's wife or daughter?"

"Elladan! Listen to what your are saying! I cannot believe that our brother did such a thing."

"But you have seen the whiplashes. Fifteen, Ro. Fifteen! You do not get fifteen whiplashes for nothing!"

"I know, Dan, I know."

Silence reigned for some time, while Elrohir gazed out of the window at the snow covered forest that surrounded the valley and Elladan paced the room. Then, Elladan stopped in his pacing and looked sadly at his twin.

"I would have never thought that I would say this one day, but mayhap we have erred in our assessment of Estel. Perhaps he is not better than all the other humans out there, with the same greedy heart and weak soul. Perhaps…perhaps all the sayings about his line are true after all, and the heir of Isildur is as dark minded as his ancestor."

Elrohir could not reply to his brother's words, for his reasoned thought agreed with what Elladan had said, but his heart told him that it was not true. Sighing, he still gazed out of the window as Elladan flopped down on his bed to stare at the ceiling; both were in deep troubled thought. Inside of them, both did not truly believe that their brother had done a henious crime, but the evidence was strong.

None of them knew that their conversation had been overheard by Aragorn.

Aragorn could not believe what he had just heard, and his heart beat in denial. He leaned away from the door and fought the painful sting in his heart. Slowly, as if a heavy weight was pressing down on his shoulders, he turned and walked back to his room, where he locked the door and then sank down onto his bed.

For long moments he just sat there, staring at the wall, letting the conversation he had heard play in his mind again and again.

_/And here I though our brother was a good man…/_

_/Lain with someone else's wife or daughter/_

_/…the same greedy heart and weak soul./_

_/…and the heir of Isildur is as dark minded as his ancestor./_

Did his brothers really think he was that way, that he was a greedy and weak man, capable of all the things that they had said? All these long years, had they not been enough to show them that he was not like Isildur? All the struggles and hardships he had suffered, the pain and longing, had that not been enough to make them believe in him? Had they no trust in him? No faith?

Had it all been in vain? His years in the wild, in Rohan and Gondor, his countless years of fighting the spreading evil and the shadow of Sauron, had that not been enough to be worthy in their eyes? To earn their love?

According to their words, no, it had not been enough. It had all been in vain, for some simple marks on his back had been enough to make his brothers believe that he was a man like all others; greedy of heart and weak of soul. A mere human, a mere mortal.

Filthy, tainted, unworthy.

A sob rose unwilling in Aragorn's throat, and he did not suppress it. Why should he? Slowly, in his exhausted and hurting mind, he began to believe that perhaps his brothers were right. Perhaps he was what they claimed and even more.

Had not Rogondil tried to kill him, because he had caused his younger brother to get hurt and nearly die? The man had claimed that Aragorn was a bad Chieftain, not worthy to rule the Dunedain; that he was weak and only Chieftain by blood and not by deeds.

And Cederic, the young ranger had stolen the goods not for himself, but for his parents. But, had it not been Aragorn's decision to rest in the small village in the first place? Had he not seen that something was amiss with Cederic and had not questioned him? Was it not he who had been ignorant to the young ranger's problems? Had he paid more attention to the ranger, he surely would have seen that something was wrong and acted accordingly.

And then, when he had come home, had it not been his decision to hide his wounds? Perhaps, had he shown them from the start and explained how he came by them, his brothers would have believed him. But now that chance was inextricably lost. Elladan and Elrohir would never believe a word he said, not in a million years.

And Aragorn did not want to think about his foster father and what he would say about the wounds that marred his back. If not even the twins had faith in him and believed him, then his father would not believe his explanations either, of that Aragorn was certain.

As it seemed, all of his decisions only led to more pain and heartbreak. No matter what he did, it caused someone pain. If not even his own family had faith in him, then how could the rangers?

Another sob escaped his lips, and soon more followed, accompanied by bitter tears. He had not cried in years, but his exhaustion overrode his mind and his body tried to ease his pain on this way. And so Aragorn sat on his bed until the sun dropped behind the horizon, night settled over the elven haven and peace and quiet stole over all hearts.

But not three hurting hearts in the Last Homely House, hearts that bled in anguish, denial and uncertainty.

°°

Elrond sat at the head of the dining table and patiently awaited the arrival of his sons, so that they could enjoy supper together. To his dismay he had been busy the whole day and there had been absolutely no time to check on the twins and Aragorn, but Elrond had no doubt that his sons had found something to occupy their minds.

It felt so good to have his youngest under the roof again, and to be able to talk to him and share his company. Too long Aragorn had not been home, and Elrond had felt each day of his absence keenly. The thought of all his sons at home alone was enough to make him smile.

Sipping at his wine, he suddenly saw his twin sons enter, but when he saw the expressions on their faces, his smile faltered. Elladan and Elrohir looked …forced cheerful. The Lord of Imladris knew his sons' antics long enough to see that something was not right and that his sons were trying to hide something from him.

Wordlessly, the twins took their seats at the table, poured themselves some wine, and expertly managed to avoid their father's look. Elrond watched the spectacle for some minutes while he waited for Aragorn to appear, but when neither his third son made an appearance, nor the twins broke the stillness, he cleared his throat.

"My sons, do you have any idea where your brother is?"

Inwardly he mused that the three had managed to get themselves into some mischief during the day, and that Aragorn had blamed the twins for one prank or another. And now they were trying to hide the damage from their father; probably Aragorn was still busy clearing up the mess.

Elrohir sipped at his wine and answered his father's question with an emotionless voice, "Maybe he is not hungry."

Elrond's eyebrow rose at that statement. "Not hungry? He looks starved, and even the little he ate yesterday evening was hard for him to keep down. He missed breakfast already, surely he must be hungry by now."

This time it was Elladan who answered curtly, "Perhaps he has already eaten?"

Elrond did not miss the look that Elrohir gave his brother, but there was no point in arguing the topic at the moment. Aragorn was a grown man and knew when supper was served in his home. If he was not present at the table, perhaps the man was really not hungry.

Sighing, Elrond gestured at the plates of food, "I think we should start, then. The meal is becoming cold."

Supper was a quiet affair, too quiet for Elrond's liking. Always when Aragorn was at home, dinner was a loud and cheerful thing; they would talk and bicker, smile and laugh. And furthermore, the absence of his youngest child worried Elrond, as he could not truly believe that Aragorn would miss supper with his family.

During the meal, the twins had not spoken a word on their own account and the short answers Elrond had received upon his questions, had frustrated him. After supper, Elladan and Elrohir had excused themselves, saying that they had some important things to discuss about their next patrol.

Now more certain than ever that something was amiss, Elrond made his way to Aragorn's room. Whatever the twins had done to him and how bad the prank had been, surely it was not so bad as to keep a grudge all evening long and miss the songs in the Halls of Fire and the company of his family and friends.

Stopping in front of the closed door, he knocked and waited for an answer. When he heard nothing, he knocked a second time, "Estel, are you in there?"

Elrond heard a shuffling behind the door, and then the unmistakable sound of the key being turned in the lock reached his ears. But he had only one moment to wonder about the fact that his son would lock his door in his own home, before the door opened before him and he stood face to face with Aragorn.

The room behind the man was dark; no candles had been lit and no fire burned in the hearth. Instead, a window had been opened, letting the cold night air enter and fill the room. When Aragorn took a step back, Elrond entered and scanned the room quickly.

The bed sheets were untidy, blankets and pillows strewn over the bed; clothing had been thrown over the back of a stool and an assortment of cloths and herbs lay on the bedside table, but otherwise the room looked as it usually did. There was no sign of a prank or ill gone joke, and Elrond once again wondered what had occurred to garner the sour mood of all his children.

Because, one look at Aragorn told him that the man was in no good mood; the dark circles under his eyes were even more prominent, and the paleness of the skin had not changed much either.

Turning towards his son who was in this moment moving the door so that it stood slightly ajar, Elrond sighed deeply, "Estel, what happened? And don't tell me you know not of what I am speaking, for I have eyes to see." His tone was not reprimanding, but held an amused shimmer; Elrond still believed that his sons were begrudged over a prank. For, what else could have happened?

Aragorn thought his hearing failed him as he detected the amused fibre in his father's voice. By now he was sure that the twins had told Elrond about his wounds and the reason for them, but the elf Lord did not act as if he knew. Was it possible? Had the twins not told him about it, leaving this gruesome task for him to do?

Aragorn swallowed and then answered, "You do not know? Have the twins not told you?"

A chuckle came from Elrond, and then he said, "Well, as it seems your brothers are either too shy to tell me or too afraid. So, would you perhaps enlighten an old elf?"

Aragorn did not know what to say. He felt that his father was not playing with him, but that he had truly no idea what had happened. Should he tell him then, and spare him from finding out via the twins? Would his father believe him if he told him?

As it seemed his inner struggle had been visible on his face, or he had simply been silent for too long, but Elrond took a step closer and eyed him carefully.

"Estel, what is it? What happened?"

Suddenly, a gruff voice sounded from behind Aragorn, and he needed not turn to identify the owner, Elladan.

"A good question, is it not?"

Confused, Elrond looked first at Elladan and Elrohir who stood in the doorway, and then back at Aragorn, who had not moved an inch.

"Elladan, what are you talking about?"

The oldest of the three brothers stepped into the room and gestured at Aragorn, "Let him tell you. Or even better, let him show you."

Behind Elladan, Elrohir entered the room, and after closing the door behind him, went to the drawer and lit some candles. The small flames dipped the room into a soft orange glow, but it did not help to lighten the tension that suddenly hung thick in the air.

As it seemed, Elladan was quite agitated, and when Aragorn did not answer him, indeed, did nothing but stand motionless between his father and brother, Elladan snapped, "What? Are you such a coward that you dare not tell him? Yes? Shall I?"

Turning and facing his enraged brother, Aragorn tried once again to explain, "Let me explain, Elladan, please, it is not as you think it is."

But his brother only snorted and then spat, "Oh, and how is it then? I saw what I saw, and not even you can talk yourself out of this one."

Elrond had seen and heard enough; taking a step towards his sons, he said in a deep voice, "Elladan, Estel, what is this all about? I want an explanation, now."

Without letting his human brother out of his eyes, Elladan asked bitterly, "Shall I tell ada about your new career, or will you? But I bet you are too cowardly to tell him, let alone show him."

Elladan himself could not say where his anger came from, but in this very moment it felt so very good to let go of it. He did not truly see the hurt look that crossed his human brother's face, or that Aragorn's face blanched more with every word that he spoke. He did not see the small tremors that wracked Aragorn's body, or the red eyes of his brother that spoke of a very painful day. All he saw was his human brother, who he himself had helped raise and in who he had placed so much trust and faith, and who had now failed him and betrayed all that was worthy to him.

Elrond's voice filled the room, "Show me what, Elladan? Estel?"

Aragorn did not look at his father, or brother for that matter, as he slowly reached for his tunic and then lifted the fabric far enough to expose the bandages that wound around his upper body.

As he had thought he would, Elrond gasped and stepped closer, intent on helping his son and tending to his wounds. But before the elf Lord could reach him, Aragorn let go of his tunic and it fell back in place, hiding the bandages from view once more. Elladan's voice was cold as he said,

"There is no need to tend to him, ada. He says he has deserved his punishment and he should bear it as a reminder of what he has done."

So hurtful were the words, that Aragorn felt his blood turn cold in his veins. But what was even more horrible to him, were the guarded words of his foster father.

"Punishment? What do you mean, Elladan?"

A snort escaped the twin and then Elladan answered his father, "Have you not heard yet, ada? Out foster brother has become a common criminal, and he has been caught and punished for his crime, whatever it was."

No! All inside of Aragorn wanted to tell his brother the truth, tell him what had truly happened, "Dan, please, let me…"

"No! I do not want to hear what you have to say, for it will be naught but lies. Tell me, for how long already do you tread the path of darkness instead of light? Have we taught you nothing? Do you hold us and what he believe in such little regard that you forfeit it as soon as you step outside of this house?"

Elladan was fuming, he had clenched his hands into fists and he seemed barely able to control himself. He gave Aragorn another angry stare, and then bolted from the room. Elrohir watched his brother leave, but did not follow yet. He wanted to hear what his father had to say, and deep inside he could still not believe that his younger brother had turned into a criminal.

The mighty Lord of Imladris locked his eyes with his human son, and then he asked quietly, "Is what your brother claims true? Do these bandages veil the marks of a crime sentence?"

The question itself could only lead him deeper into despair, but Aragorn answered nevertheless, feeling the urge to tell his father the truth, "Yes, they do. But…"

He never had the chance of finishing his sentence, as Elrond suddenly took a step backwards, and his eyes turned such a shade of dark brown as Aragorn had never seen before. All the warmth and love they usually held fled them and were replaced by disbelief and disappointment. And something more could be seen in those ancient eyes, hurt and scorning contempt.

"Enough! I do not wish to hear more, Aragorn."

A sob wanted to escape Aragorn's lips, but he kept it inside. He had not missed the exchange of names his father now used, and it hurt him deeply. But still, once more he tried to plead his case and let his father see what had truly happened to scar him thus, "Please, let me explain."

"There is nothing to explain. I know what one has to do to deserve the punishment of your kin."

Elrond stood there for a moment, disbelief and disgust fighting in his heart, but he could not shake the picture of Aragorn's tightly bandaged chest out of his mind, and he knew what it meant.

Letting his head hang, finally unable to argue any longer, Aragorn said softly, "I will leave immediately if you so wish, but I would ask you of the favour to let me stay till morn, for the snow is still deep and the night dark."

Gazing at the man who stood before him, Elrond said, his voice void of all outward emotion, "Stay as long as you wish. Perhaps it would be best to stay as long as you had initially planned, for your rangers will otherwise surely search for you." And in his thoughts he added 'and I have no wish to see them here in Imladris, not now.'

And with that, Elrond, confused and slightly dazzled, turned and left the room, making his way to his study, hurt and anger welling inside his heart at the open display of broken loyalty and honour towards himself and his house he had just seen.

Aragorn could not move. His father's word still echoed in his ears, heard but not truly registered. How had it come to all of this? His wounded back hurt whenever he drew a shaking breath, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his heart.

Soft footsteps reached his ears and he felt Elrohir's eyes on him, but he did not lift his gaze, and so he listened unmoving as his brother left his room and closed the door behind him with a soft click.

And in that moment, Aragorn felt his entire world crumple; his family, all that he held dear, had turned from him, to leave him alone and bereft of all warmth and love. He was utterly alone in a world that had once been so familiar to him, but that now moved out of his control.

And Aragorn fell to his knees as his legs were unable to hold his weight any longer, but tears would not come as he had spent them all before. So he sat there for a long time, battling his emotions and trying to figure out if he should stay in Imladris or leave to venture out into a world, that suddenly looked brighter than his own home, despite the dangers that lurked there.

Tbc...

**So, what do you say? Please, keep telling me, I need your support with this story! Tell me what you like, and what not. It will help me to finish the last two chapters. **


	4. 4 a Hope fades

**A/N:** _Dearest readers, thank you soooo much for all the reviews. They are so wonderful. -- So, but now I have a real problem. By now, I have two chapters "4" and I cannot decide which one to post. Both have their merits and I like them both. I post now this one, with the more common plot. Perhaps I post the other chapter "4", with the more unusual plot once this story is finished. Alternate story ending, so to say. Tell me if you would like that, please. Well then, happy reading!_

°°°°°** Chapter 4: Hope fades**

Aragorn knew not how long he lay on his bed that night, blindly staring out of the window, seeing but not noticing the movement of the moon, the change from the darkest of night to the greyness of dawn, before he finally stood up and began to pack his things together. Time had no longer any meaning to him, as all he held dear had turned from him to let him alone in despair and nothingness.

Without looking back, or leaving a message, he left his room when the weak light of Arnor just peeked over the cliff walls, and when he finally reached the top of the cliffs, the sun shone bleak from the sky.

He had taken no horse, as he had not arrived on one, and while he walked out of reach of comfort and love, his mind was as blank as the white, snow covered lands around him. During the night, the temperatures had been low, and new snow had fallen; Aragorn sank down into the wetness up to his knees, and walking was difficult and exhausting. But he did not care, did not even register completely where he was going; the only thought on his mind was that his family had given up on him, and that all he held dear had turned from him, to leave him alone in a world of darkness and despair.

Deep inside, he knew that running away was no alternative, that it would lead to only more problems, but his confused heart was too loud, and his mind was soon silenced by the desperate plea of his heart to leave. So he left the only home he had ever known.

Not once did he stop that first day, neither for food nor rest, and his wounds stayed untreated; he did not mind the pain they caused him. In fact he relishing in the comfort the pain brought his mind. For that was all that was able to penetrate the grief induced stupor he was in, the pain in his body was more welcome to him than the ache in his heart and his mind had long but refused to notice anything else but the burning sensation of the ugly, and by now inflamed, cuts that marred his back.

Physical pain was something he could deal with, but the agony his heart suffered could not be cured. It prowled at the edges of his consciousness, ready to consume him. But he had not yet given in completely, and so he held on to the pain in his body and willed himself to live yet. For, even if his family had turned from him, he had not turned from them, and his heart still wished for their presence and comfort. Deep inside, he could not yet believe and accept that he would never again receive it. But, he had felt the walls closing in on him, the silence of the house, and so he had gone were he felt accepted and safe: into the Wilderness that he knew so well, with its dangers and the darkness that took him up as one of its own creations.

_At the same time in Imladris…_

For how long had he sat there? Elrond did not know. But, when he looked out of the window and saw that the sun was already sinking towards the horizon, he knew that he had sat in his study for a whole night and nearly the next day; long enough.

How could he have been so stupid? For there was no other word to describe his actions towards his youngest son. Stupid, incredibly stupid. Estel had been injured, in pain and in need of comfort, and what had he done? He had ignored him and hurt him. His own son.

Elrond took a deep breath and slowly stood from his chair. He had thought about it the whole time, but still he did not know the satisfying answer he sought. It was a simple question in itself, but still… The answer was hard to find, and not even with all his wisdom could Elrond answer it.

Why?

Why had he rejected his son? Why had he not listened to him? A part of him suspected that it had had to do with Isildur and the events of the Last Alliance. Despite common believe, Elrond had known Isildur very well, personally, not just because he was the son of Elendil Elf-Friend. No, Elrond had spend many a sleepless night with the young human, talking about the world and its changes, the possibilities it offered and the doors it could open. Oh yes, Elrond had found friendship with Isildur, and so it had been double hard to see him fall into shadow.

On that day, when the world had changed but not for the better, Elrond had sworn that he would do all in his might to help cure the disease that spread from Mordor. And one way to do that was to shelter and raise the heirs of Isildur, and show them the door. But steeping through the door, they could only do by themselves.

With the years, he had seen so many heirs, some good others less, but with every one he head hoped to find the one who could right all wrongs. Just when he had given up hope, Estel had stepped into his life. And hope had risen its wings out of the ashes and taken flight, and Elrond had known that Estel would be the "one". He had not name him in a whim.

With the years, this opinion had manifested itself, and deep inside his heart Elrond had known that Estel had it in himself to overcome the darkness, and heal Arda from the dark disease of Mordor.

He had raised him, sheltered him, educated him, loved him like a son. But still, even after all those years in which Estel had proven his worth, Elrond had not been able to pull the thorn of doubt out of his heart. Doubt, that one day his labours proved to have been done in vain. That one day, darkness would claim Estel's heart, and guide him down the dark path, instead of the bright path that he had shown him.

Oh, but he knew his son, he knew Estel's heart, and he knew that his son was noble and kind, pure of spirit and willing to sacrifice his life for others. He was as honourable as the Kings of Old, and stronger than the pull, that had overthrown some of his ancestors.

Elrond Peredhel, you are an old fool, he said to himself. But, perhaps it is not too late yet to right the wrong you have caused. If he lets you…

With a heavy heart, and as nervous as he had never been before, Elrond slowly made his way to Aragorn's room. Would there be hope for him? He did not know, and that frightened him. Hesitatingly, he lifted his hand, and then gently knocked at the thick wood. Gently, although the wanted nothing more than to break down this barrier towards his son, engulf him in his arms, and tell him how incredibly sorry he was.

But when only silence met his call, his heart already knew the answer to his silent plea. He was too late, and his hope faded.

°°

Sighing, Elladan stared at the ceiling in his room, for the umpteenth time counting the wooden beams, although he already knew their number by heart. The last two days had been exhausting, but now that he had finally lain down to rest, he could not. Or rather, his body could, but his aching heart won't let him.

Elladan knew that he had been unfair to his brother, if not rude. Ah, who was he kidding? He had not only been rude, but mean and brutal. Now that he had calmed down and thought about it, he felt horrible. What had possessed him to say all those hurtful words to Estel? To treat him like something unworthy and tainted?

For hours he had thought about this very question, but he had found no answer. All he knew was, that he had done his brother a great evil, and that he needed to apologise. Had Estel not tried to tell him what had happened? Yes, more than once, but he had not listened. Simply not listened.

With another great sigh, Elladan sat up intend to go over to Estel's room. Perhaps he would find the answers to his questions after he had listened to what his brother had to say. Inwardly, he hoped that he had indeed been wrong, and that there was a good and plausible explanation for the wounds on Estel's back.

Stepping out of his door, he met Elrohir in the hallway; as it seemed he was not the only one who needed to talk to Estel. He nodded, unable to look his brother into the face, guilt and shame conflicting inside of him. Elrohir had been the only reasonable of them. He had not yelled at Estel, had not argued with him or insulted him. No, Elrohir had not done that, and Elladan felt suddenly very bad in his twin's company.

But Elrohir said nothing, his face grave, and together they made their way to the room of their human brother. When they turned the corner, they saw that their father was already there. Elrond turned, his face ashen, and when his words reached their ears, they felt an icy hand grab their hearts and squeeze them mercilessly.

"We are too late, my sons. Estel is gone."

°°

A shiver raced down his spine, followed by another and another. His whole body shook with tremors, but Aragorn did not truly notice his body's discomfort, for his heart ached so fiercely, that he could barely breathe.

Night was approaching fast, as it always did in this time of year, and the shadows at the bases of the trees grew larger and deeper; the sounds of the forest stilling to leave only his own beating heart break the silence. A pale moon rose on the horizon, shedding its silver light on the woods, turning the snow into a white shimmering sea.

Aragorn stumbled onwards, his fingers numb and his legs aching, the muscles cramping from the cold and the strain he forced them through. The bitter taste of iron lingered on his tongue, and sweat stood on his brow despite the coldness.

Somewhere in his mind, he knew that he needed to stop and rest, to tend his wounds or at least eat something or build a fire to keep him warm. But the other part of his mind told him to go on, to walk as far and as fast as he could. To leave this place behind and seek comfort and shelter somewhere else.

But he did not think that comfort was still something he yearned for. For, did he deserve it? Had he not only lied to his family, but broken their trust in them as well? Had he not hurt them and betrayed everything that they stood for and that they held dear in this world?

Yes, in a way he had. He had done all that, and he felt that he deserved not their comfort, although he knew that they would not give it to him anyway. So, why bother? With every step he took, he went further away from all that he loved and cared for, but with each step he felt lighter and freed.

But perhaps, it was only the cold and the night that was pretending to caress him and hold him, that embraced him with loving arms and take the pain and hurt from him, to replace them with numbness and indifference.

He stumbled, but his feet did not stop in their relentless march, away and only away from the pain and anger. And then, as the moon stood high and the stars blinked from the sky, Aragorn lifted his head and looked around him, for the first time truly seeing.

He turned, looking into the direction he had come from. To his surprise, he felt not the breathtaking stab of cold agony in his heart that he had anticipated, but only a dull throbbing, as if the part of his heart that belonged to the illusion that was Imladris had finally been silenced. Murdered, by his walk westwards.

Aragorn took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the clean and fresh winter air. He blinked, turned, and vanished into the nightly forest. Oh, he still ached, but it was only a bodily hurt, an ache that he could treat, although he knew he would not. No, he would bear the scars on his back as a reminder of how fragile the hearts and minds of all peoples could be, how easily corrupted and twisted. They would forever remember him of the day he had lost the only family he had known, and the day hoped faded into the night.

Coldness and numbness replaced hurt and pain, and the man that vanished into the woods, was not the one who had entered it only a few days ago.

And when the bleak morning light brightened the soft snow, the only sign that told of Aragorn's presence were his footprints in the white snow, but even those were soon covered by fresh flakes.

Tbc…


	5. 4 b Learning the truth

**Alright, this may be confusing...LoL**

**This is chapter 4b, so the alternative version of chapter 4. I post this first and not chapter 5, because chapter 5 can be read after reading chapter 4 (a) _and_ 4b. So, the order is either: Chapter 1,2,3,4,5 _or_ Chapter 1,2,3,4b,5. I hope that makes it clearer...**

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****Chapter 4b "Learning the truth" (alternative version)**

On the fourth day, although Aragorn did not know that it was indeed the fourth day after the confrontation with his family, someone knocked lightly on his door, almost too soft to be heard by mortal ears.

The sound did not lift him from his stupor and he did not answer. Another knock and still no answer. Then, the door opened slowly with a soft creaking sound, and then the fair voice of Elrohir floated into the room.

"Estel?"

Aragorn heard the voice, but his mind told him that he was only dreaming, that it could not be his brother who had come, and if he truly had come, than only to tell him that he should finally leave Imladris, because he no longer had a place in the Last Homely House. And so Aragorn unconsciously ignored the voice and let himself drift deeper into the void that loomed in his heart.

Elrohir peered into the half lit room, the curtains were nearly closed and only a tiny shimmer of light entered. With his keen eyesight he saw Aragorn lay motionless on the huge bed, and for a moment he asked himself whether it had been a good idea to come. But then his heart overrode his mind and he entered, closing the door behind him.

The figure on the bed faced away from him, seemingly gazing through the gap in the curtains upon the world outside. Advancing on the bed, the younger twin gently set down the tray with food and tea he carried on a wooden bench that stood at the end of the bed, and then gazed down at his brother.

Aragorn's eyes were open, but he did not look at him. Pain pierced Elrohir's heart at the sight in front of him. The body of his human brother looked so small in the huge bed, nearly lost in all the blankets and pillows, but too light to sink down into them. He resembled more a child than a grown man and suddenly Elrohir felt guilty for abandoning his brother in his time of need.

But alas, his own eyes had seen the welts on his back and he knew what it had meant. For days he had fought with himself, but this afternoon he had decided to visit Aragorn. The man had not left his room for days, and only this morning had Elrohir learned from a servant that no food had been reported missing. None at all.

Until then the younger twin had thought that Aragorn would steal into the kitchen in the dark of night to get what he needed, trying to get out of his family's way; but alas, he had not. So Elrohir had finally gathered up his courage and remaining care for his brother and come to see him.

And what he saw now was almost more than he could bear.

"Estel?"

The man remained motionless, eyes staring out of the window. No muscle twitched, he did not even blink. Only the soft rising and falling of his chest indicated that he was still alive, and Elrohir felt a lump form in his throat. How had it come so far?

Taking another step forward, he sat on the edge of the bed and looked down on his brother. Still, the man did not move and made no sound, and had Elrohir not know better he would have thought the man was fading.

Hesitatingly, Elrohir reached out to touch Aragorn's shoulder, but then he stopped in his motion and his hand hovered only inches above the man's body. If the man had noticed his presence, he did not show it; but a look into the lifeless and dull grey eyes told Elrohir that his brother was far gone from this world.

Almost desperate now all of the sudden, he placed his hand on Aragorn's shoulder. He felt the thinness of the shoulder and the bone poking from under the flesh, and a shudder ran over his spine. Aragorn had been thin when he had reached Imladris, and they had done nothing to help him replenish his strength, no, instead they had furthered his fall.

Swallowing thickly, Elrohir squeezed the shoulder gently and with his next words, he saw Aragorn come back to the present.

"Estel, please tell me."

Dull grey eyes met his own and the muscles under his fingers tensed as if Aragorn wanted to flee from the room. For a long moment neither of them moved while Aragorn scanned his brother's face. Then, the man averted his gaze, and Elrohir nearly wept at the man's words.

"Why?"

The voice sounded so weak and bleak. There was no strength left, no hope, no life. And in that fleeting moment Elrohir knew that Aragorn, although still in Imladris, was no longer with them. Not really. Yes, Elrohir thought, why? He did not know, but he felt that he must hear what had happened to understand his brother's pain and his own. And so he answered what was on his mind,

"Because my mind and heart battle with each other, and my heart is yet too strong to yield to my mind. Tell me what happened to you, and help me understand."

A great sigh seemed to leave Aragorn, but he said nothing. But then his resigned voice once more reached Elrohir's ears,

"Would you believe me then, if I tell you?"

"Yes." It was barely a whisper, but Elrohir knew it was the truth.

And with that, Aragorn began to speak of his journey to Imladris. His voice filled the silence of the afternoon and his words wove a tale of such a sad truth that Elrohir could not stop the tears that fell from his eyes.

When Aragorn finished his story and the words no longer filled the room, the silence was broken by a heartfelt sob and then Elrohir's voice could be heard, "Estel, I am so sorry. I am so sorry for not listening to you. Oh Estel, I am sorry."

Aragorn heard the words and felt the bed move under the sobs that threatened to over take the elf, and the tiny spark of hope that had clung to his heart now roared to a fire, and a small glimmer returned to his dull eyes.

He swallowed, but his voice was merely a whisper when he asked, "You believe me, then?"

"Oh Estel, of course! Of course!"

A tremor ran through his weakened body, then another and another. Aragorn could not stop them, and before long he shook like a leave in a summer rain. He had no longer any tears left to spend, but silent sobs of relieve left his body like water leaked out of a broken bottle. This was what he had hoped for, dreamed of. And now that it had come true, he felt it crush him as his body and mind were ripped from their grief induced stupor.

Seeing and feeling his body tremble, Elrohir bend down and scooped him up in his strong arms and buried his face in Aragorn's hair, all the time whispering how sorry he was about what had happened.

"Oh Estel, I should never have doubted you, I don't know why I did. Never have you given us any reason to regret placing our trust and faith in you! I am sorry, I am so sorry Estel!"

Slowly his trembling ceased and Aragorn felt comforted by his brother's presence. For him, words were not necessary and he leaned deeper into the so welcome touch of his older brother.

Elrohir rambled on, his guilt only increasing when he felt the almost withered form of his brother, the cold skin and the sharp bones under the flesh. And he felt the warmth that radiated from Aragorn's forehead and knew that the wounds on his back had not been treated properly, perhaps not at all.

But as another rush of apologizing words left his lips, he felt Aragorn stiffen in his arms, and then the man withdrew from the comforting embrace and sank back down onto the bed. Aragorn's voice was thin and not much more than a whisper,

"Please, no more. You carry no guilt, Elrohir, for it was me who lied to you from the start. I am sorry I did not confide in you and Elladan, but I…could not."

"Now that I know what happened, I can understand your hesitancy, and I am sorry for causing you more pain."

"Ro,…" Aragorn did not want to hear any more apologies. He felt tired and weak, his body had no strength left to argue with his brother.

"Sh, Estel. I know you feel guilty for not telling us, but please, let me carry the burden on my shoulders, for I want to do so."

Aragorn nodded, his eyes already half closed as the relief about this turn of events had lightened his heart more than anything else. Seeing his brother's need of sleep and rest and wanting to lift the mood, Elrohir commented,

"And after all, I am the older of us two, and therewith should be the wiser. That I was too blind to see the truth is only a testament my famed idiocy."

A small smile that vanished so fast that Elrohir was not even sure he saw it flittered over Aragorn's face, and then the man's breath evened out and he drifted off to sleep, finally able to close his eyes without the fear of nightmares.

But Elrohir sat for many more minutes on the edge of the bed, gazing down at the sleeping form of his brother. He took in the pale skin, the fever flushed and hollow cheeks, the thin limbs and the matted hair.

Slowly and gently, so as not to wake his brother, Elrohir lifted the thin blanket from the man and then the tunic Aragorn wore. The bandages that were revealed were no longer clean, but here and there a deep red tainted them, and Elrohir knew that Aragorn had not tended his wounds in the four days that he had been in his room.

Elrohir sighed, and then went to rekindle the fire in the hearth. These wounds needed cleaning and tending, and as soon as Aragorn woke, he would get him to drink some tea and eat something. And after that, for he would not leave this room before his brother had woken, he would talk with Elladan and his father. It was time they learned the truth.

°°

Slowly the afternoon gave way to evening, but still Aragorn slept. Elrohir had tended to the wounds on his back, shocked to see that some of them had not even begun to heal and that most of them had been red and inflamed. But what had even more shaken him, was the fact that he had been able to count the man's ribs without feeling them. Aragorn was not only thin, he was nearly starved. Elrohir had known that the winter had been hard on the rangers, but never had he thought how hard.

His brother's body gave a sad testament of the dire need the families in the villages in the North felt, and now he understood the cruel punishment his brother had taken upon himself much better. And he knew that under these conditions a mere boy of sixteen summers would not have easily survived such a sentence.

Whatever Aragorn might think about himself, Elrohir looked with pride in his eyes on his human brother, for to save the young ranger from such a fate was a great deed indeed. And Elrohir had no doubt that Aragorn was a good Chieftain and that whatever had caused the boy to steal, he had not done it because he had no trust in his Chieftain. No, surely not.

When night settled over Imladris and the first stars appeared in the sky, Aragorn finally stirred. Elrohir was at his side in a mere moment, and when the tired eyes opened and grey orbs locked on deer brown ones, the younger twin smiled gently.

"Good to see you awake, gwanur nin."

Aragorn said nothing, not yet trusting his voice. He looked around his room and took in the fire in the hearth, the burning candles and the fresh blankets that were spread on the bed. The fine scent of herbs drifted to his nose and he knew that his brother had treated his wounds.

"Thank you, Elrohir, for tending my wounds, but you needed not…"

"Yes, I needed to and I wished to help you. But now, you have to drink some warm tea to chase away the stiffness in your body. And you need to eat something so that your strength returns."

With that Elrohir presented a steaming cup of tea and a bowl of soup, and Aragorn asked himself if his brother had only waited for him to open his eyes to make him eat something. But strangely, that thought comforted him, and he smiled thankfully and drank the tea without complaint. But he felt not hungry and the thought of food made him feel sick to the stomach.

Just as he was to shake his head and tell his brother that he was not hungry, Elrohir said pleadingly, "Please Estel, just a few spoonfuls. You can stop when you have enough, but you need to eat something."

Sighing, Aragorn nodded, took the bowl of soup from his brother and began to eat. Elrohir never left his brother out of his sight, but too soon Aragorn placed the spoon back into the bowl and returned it to Elrohir. He had not eaten half of it, but his stomach already felt filled and he could eat no more.

Smiling despite the strange feeling in his stomach, Elrohir patted his brother's arm, stood to his feet replaced the bowl on the tray.

"You'll see Estel, your appetite will return. Perhaps you can try a little bit more later."

"Yes, perhaps."

Returning to Aragorn's side, Elrohir did not know how to ask this, but after a few minutes of silence he decided that the straight way was sometimes the right way, and so he asked his question.

"Estel, Elladan and father need to learn the truth. Do you want me to tell them, or do you want to do that yourself?"

Aragorn sighed, "Would they believe me, after all that has happened? You saw and heard Elladan, he will not listen to me, and I doubt he would listen to you."

"What would you have me do then?"

He was silent for long moments, but then Aragorn spoke, his voice soft, "Nothing. Nothing Elrohir."

And so Elrohir stayed in Aragorn's room for the night, and did not go to his brother as he had planned. If Aragorn felt that his brother and father needed to sort our their feelings and then come to the right conclusions on their own, Elrohir would wait as well.

Days passed. The younger twin treated Aragorn's wounds, healed him from his fever and made him eat. The pale colour only slowly left the face and it would take weeks if not months to repair what the harsh winter had damaged, but after some days the fear of loosing his brother left Elrohir, and he could breathe easier.

Aragorn still slept a lot, but in the hours he was awake, they talked and shared stories, acting as if nothing had happened. Aragorn appeared stronger, but Elrohir noticed the fearful glances that Aragorn shot the door when he thought he would not see it, and he saw the vacant and dull look that entered the grey eyes in the gloomy moments of silence.

A week passed, and still neither Elladan nor their father had come, and with every day that passed Elrohir could see that Aragorn slipped further through his fingers. Maybe he had treated his physical wounds and helped them start to heal, but the wound in Aragorn's heart was deep and would stay scarred forever. And with every day that passed and the door to his room only opened for Elrohir, Aragorn lost a bit more of his hope and Elrohir felt that soon nothing would be left than the empty shell of the man Aragorn had once been.

Something needed to be done, now.

Then one night while Aragorn slept, Elrohir left the room and made his way to the Hall of Fire, intend on finding his brother and father. No matter what Aragorn thought, they needed to know what had happened and apologize to Estel.

The Hall of Fire was empty beside his brother and father, as Elrohir had hoped it would be around this late hour. Striding purposefully over towards his family, Elrohir finally stopped in front of his father and brother, who both sat in comfortable chairs before the hearth.

It was Elladan who spoke first, not giving his brother a chance to speak,

"Ah, look who graces us with his presence" Elladan was no longer angry, not really, but he was afraid and ashamed of what he had done, and he did not truly know how to handle it. With every day that had passed, his fear to see his brother had increased, up to the point where he could no longer deny the pain in his own heart. But, it was hard to confess his own mistakes, so much so that he had retreated behind his shield of carelessness.

"You would not speak thus had you seen him or his wounds."

"I have no need to see them again, for I know he deserves them, and I pity him not."

"I know that is not true, you love him and care for him, as we all do, Elladan. And we wronged him, we…"

Elrond cut his son of, "How could we have wronged him, for was it not he who wronged us by betraying all we hold dear?"

Elrohir shook his head vehemently, and said sadly, "No, he did nothing wrong. He told me."

Elladan sat up in his chair and said gruffly, "Lies, I bet."

Anger flared in Elrohir, for he knew that his brother was indeed deeply worried for Aragorn, and he could not understand why he behaved as he did. "No, Dan, no lies. He never lied to us, never! But it is not as it seems to be."

Rising form his chair, Elladan spat, "But he confessed! He told us that it was a crime punishment and that he deserved it!"

"But because of different reasons than you think! He committed no crime, Dan."

Pacing, the older twin threw at his brother, "What for reasons? What was he punished for, Ro?"

Elrohir wrestled with himself for only a second. He had promised Aragorn to not tell the story, but something needed to be done. "Do you want to know why he was flogged? In public, with a whole village and three of his rangers watching?"

Elladan and Elrond paled visibly at this news. Secretly they had thought that the punishment had been dealt out in a prison, some dank and dark place were no light or prying eyes entered. To learn that Aragorn had endure such cruel punishment in public horrified them, for they both still cared deeply for Aragorn, no matter what their minds told them. He was family, after all.

Elrond asked softly, hoping that he had not heard correctly, "Public, Elrohir?"

"Aye, in public and in the icy snow and with nothing but the biting wind and the coldness to sooth his aches."

Quietness reigned for a moment. Elladan stood rooted to his spot, his face belying his inner turmoil, and Elrond suddenly small in his chair. Then the Lord of Imladris said softly, "Elrohir, please tell us, for I no longer wish to be separated from Estel, but I have to learn of what happened first."

And so, Elrohir told his father and brother all that he had heard from Aragorn, and when he was finished he told them about the condition in which he had found his brother. As he had anticipated, Elladan and his father felt the same guilt and regret that he had felt, and he hoped that soon things would be again as they had been before.

Although, somewhere deep inside he knew that one single word or action could shatter all the trust that one had built up all his life. And he feared that the scar in Aragorn's heart would never fade.

Tbc…


	6. 5 Eastwards

**Hello! As I rewrote chapter 5 (again), this is the new reading order: 1, 2, 3, 4a, 5, 6 _or_ 1, 2, 3, 4b, 6. **

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**°°°°° Chapter 5 (only after reading 4a): Eastwards **

"We have to follow him!" Elrohir exclaimed softly. "Who knows what might befall him out there, and a snow storm is coming. Ada, we have to go!"

Elrond nodded minutely, but then he gazed out of the window into the dark night, and his face was grave. "We cannot follow him in this weather, and not in the darkness. It would be folly."

"But ada," Elrohir insisted, his voice pleading, "he could die out there. Estel is wounded and hurt, and the woods, even so close to Imladris, are dangerous. The winter has driven the wolves into our forest, and a hungry wolf is desperate to kill. Not to mention the cold."

"Ah, Elrohir, do not think me heartless, but to seek him out now is suicide." Elrond sighed, and his eyes seemed distant, as if he wished to be somewhere else entirely.

Seeing that his father would not agree to his plight to follow Estel, Elrohir turned to his twin. Elladan had not yet said anything; he stood motionless, his face like stone.

"Dan, please. We have to follow him and bring him back before it is too late."

With held breath Elrohir waited for his brother to say something, to join him in his plea; but when Elladan spoke, his words cut like ice.

"No, we will not follow him."

"Pardon?" Disbelieve coloured his voice, and Elrohir could do nothing but shake his head in utter denial of his twin's words.

Turning and facing him directly, Elladan held up a hand, "We will not follow him. YOU will follow him, alone, for I do not think he would listen to us. But there is a chance that he might listen to you, as you were the only one who did not…did not hurt him as we did."

Elladan sighed deeply, regret and shame in his whole demeanour, but Elrohir could also see the wisdom in his words.

"Ada? What say you?"

The Lord of Imladris gazed at his sons for a long time, and when Elrohir thought that his father would not say anything at all or dismiss this idea, Elrond nodded. "Go, Elrohir. Find him and bring him back, so that we can try to mend what we have broken. Be swift, but careful, ion nin."

"Thank you, ada, Dan." And with that, Elrohir turned and fled the corridor and the empty room of his brother, that said more than words. Hope had left the Last Homely House, but with a bit of luck and the help of Iluvatar, it would be returned.

°°

The night was cold, and the wind harsh and sharp, but Aragorn did not falter in his steps, or stop his feet from carrying him westwards, away from light and laughter, home and hope. Inside of him, his heart was bleeding, but at the same time it was cold as ice, having lost the sparkling fire that it housed.

He did not know for how many hours he had travelled through the snowy woods, or indeed through the darkness, when he suddenly hear the roaring of water in front of him. After a few more steps, he felt the pebbles and sand of the banks of the Bruinen under the soles of his leather boots.

The Bruinen lay before him, wide but shallow; the wind picked up tiny water droplets and threw them at him, cutting into his exposed skin like sharp needles, and so near to the river the air was even colder than it had been in the forest.

Aragorn shivered, and stopped at the bank of the river. For a long moment he simply stared at the dark water, unmoving, barely breathing. A few more steps, some mere seconds, and he would leave the realm of his foster father and leave Estel forever behind him. Once he crossed this frontier, he would not return -ever- he knew.

But, was he yet ready to trade pain for comfort, tears for laughter, and loneliness for family? Was he ready to embrace the darkness of Arda alone and abandoned, with nothing to look forward to and no one there to help him and hold him in the cold nights? Was he ready to surrender his soul to a life without love and warmth?

For Aragorn knew, that should he chose to cross the river, he would forever chose darkness over light, and coldness over warmth.

Yes, he had his ranger, and Legolas, but it was not the same as a family. A family was something he could fall back to when he fell; a family would help him up when he stumbled, would cry with him when he did and sooth him when he despaired. A family would take him back with loving arms should he fail, and would guide him even in the darkest of nights.

But is that still so? He asked himself. Has your family not just shown you that this is not true? Has your family not let you fall, and stumbled and let you despair? Has your family not led you to seek the darkness of the coldest night, instead of the warmth that it could provide?

Alas, in his mind and reasoned thought he knew that it was true, but his heart told him otherwise. Oh, how he wished to have an answer to his questions what to do, some means to quieten his thoughts and insecurities.

He took a step towards the roaring water, but then stopped again. Should he really go and leave Imladris? Seek his luck in the wild, or perhaps in the unfriendly company of The Prancing Pony? Was the Wild really better than the place he had called home since he was two years old?

A sigh escaped his lips, only to mist in the cold air and be drifted away by the wind. Aragorn turned and gazed back into the black forest behind him. All was silent besides the river, and already his footsteps had been partly covered by the falling snowflakes?

Had they noticed that he had left? Were they glad that he had? For surely they had send no one after him, otherwise he would have been found by now. Had his foster father not told him not to leave Imladris, but stay as long as he wished to do? Aye, he had, but in the undertone Aragorn had heard what his father had not said aloud: That he did not truly wish to see him, and that it would indeed be better if he left.

Elladan had accused him of horrible things, and had been short from hurting him physically, or at least that was what Aragorn felt. No, Elladan surely had no desire to see him again. And Elrohir? Elrohir… No, he had not accused him, or yelled at him. He had been the only one who had at least tried to look logically at all that had been said and done.

But still, his brother had not defended him either, had not stood up to him or come to him during the night to talk to him or seek and explanation. Had Elrohir given up on him as well?

Another sigh escaped him, and Aragorn let his gaze travel over the water. The white flakes that danced from the heavens grew thicker and increased in number; soon a snow storm would cover the lands in ice and snow, and Aragorn knew that he had to make a decision.

Cross the river and leave, or return and try to … try to what? Explain to his family what had happened? Would they listen?

He did not know, neither what to think nor what to do, and so he stood near the edge of the dark water, unmoving and waiting. The snow soon covered his hair and shoulders, but he did not move, could not. He stood and waited, the battle between mind and heart raging.

°°

Elrohir had taken the fastest horse in the stable, and charged away into the night. It was dark, but he guided his horse by instinct and years of experience, and the loyal horse did not stumble once. While he travelled, the wind picked up and the snow fell thicker, covering branches and trees with the white ice.

It was silent in the forest, as if all the animals held their collective breath in anticipation of what was to come, and Elrohir had the feeling as if this night would not only decide over the fate of his family, but over all of Arda.

With silent words he urged his horse to go faster, ignoring the branches that scratched his face, or the snow and wind that made his skin and eyes burn. Only one thing was important to him, and that was to find his brother and bring him back.

Nevertheless, despite his hope that he would indeed find Aragorn, he did not know whether it had been a wise idea to go alone. What if he was injured? What if he needed medical help that he could not give him? And what if he found Aragorn, but he had no intention to come back with him?

Had they not hurt him? Had they not accused him? Had they not made him feel unworthy and unwanted? Had they not yelled at him and ignored his words? Had they not damaged what had taken years to become? Had they not trampled down that which had taken nearly a lifetime to grow?

Aye, they had, but still… if there was no hope to mend what had been broken, then why was there such a word as "hope" at all? Was hope not just a wish, that that which we fear most might not come true? Meant clinging to hope perhaps only, that we are not yet ready to accept the inevitable? Does hoping not only prolong the suffering of out heart?

Elrohir could not help but to think of all these things as he sped through the nightly forest, ever westwards, hoping that he would find hid brother. Oh, he would ride as far and as long as he needed to, and he knew that should he not find his brother, he would ride even further west, till he reached the sea, and perhaps even further.

°°

Aragorn did not know for how long he stood at the rivers edge, but when the sun rose weakly and the snow ceased to fall, he blinked and roused himself out of the motionless void he had been in. He shook his head and rolled his shoulders, noticing only dimly the amount of cold snow that fell to the ground as he did so.

He felt cold, and could not fell his fingers any longer, but while he had stood, he had come to a decision. He was proud and stubborn, strong and wise beyond his mortal years, but this time it was not his mind that had won the battle, but his heart.

And his heart told him, that it was not yet too late, but that he shall return to the Last Homely House. He had still things to do there, and he could not leave as he had. He needed to return, if only to say his final farewell.

And with that, Aragorn turned, and took a step back, away from the river. Just then, a shape broke through the trees, rushing towards him quickly. In any other case, Aragorn would have been able to jump to the side, to avoid the collision, but the cold night had made him numb and stiff, and his limbs and muscles would not obey his command.

So, he could only stare as the horse sped towards him, catch a quick glimpse of the dark haired figure on the steed, and then close his eyes as the horse barrelled straight into him, sending him crashing to the ground and then into the cold water.

He heard a frightened neighing and a familiar voice yell something, but then the icy water engulfed him, and he knew no more.

°°

Elrohir could not believe his eyes, and he had been so immersed in his dark thoughts, that he was too late to rein in his horse. With terror he watched how he practically trampled his brother, how Aragorn was thrown into the icy river, and then was slowly carried away by the current, face down.

"Estel!"

His horse neighed agitatedly; it had tried to escape the collision, but its momentum had been too strong. With more speed than grace Elrohir dismounted, forgetting the steed for the time being, and ran towards his brother's motionless form.

"Estel!"

With wide strides Elrohir rushed into the waist deep water, instantly feeling his legs become numb and his body shiver with the cold. But he did not stop, and instead strode out wider, fighting against the current and at the same time using it to reach his brother.

Finally, Elrohir reached out with his hand, and caught hold of Aragorn's cloak. Pulling and practically swimming with the river now, Elrohir pulled his brother towards him, and then quickly rolled him onto his back to lift his face out of the water.

With pleading words on his lips, the elf struggled for the bank, and then lifted Aragorn completely out of the water. He laid him on his back in the snow, and then felt for his pulse with fingers that shook not only because of the cold.

It took some long moments ere Elrohir sighed in relieve upon finding the pulse, fast and erratic; with nothing to wrap his brother in, as he had left Imladris with all haste, Elrohir looked around frantically.

Aragorn's lips had turned blue, and his skin was whiter than the snow he was laying on. His dark hair was contrasting starkly to his skin, and his long eyelashes only intensified the feeling that death had already claimed him.

But no, he breathed still, and Elrohir would do all in his might to hold his spirit on Arda. Looking around, shivers racing through his wet and cold body, his eyes finally lighted on his horse. The steed stood near the edge of the river, tail swishing agitatedly, and snorting softly.

The horse…

"Come here, mellon nin, come here." The horse eyed him a second, but then obeyed and trotted to his side, nuzzling his shoulder affectionately. Elrohir patted its muzzle for a moment, and then bid the horse to lay down beside them in the snow.

Without hesitation, the elvish horse did as it was told, and only a moment later Elrohir sat huddled against the horse's side, with Aragorn cradled in his arms. He felt the warmth of the animal, and he hoped that it was enough to rouse Aragorn enough to wake him.

It would not be enough to safe him, but perhaps it would be enough to wake him, so that Elrohir could show him that he was not alone, that he had come to apologize. And Elrohir hoped that, once his brother knew his heart, he would hold on and survive the journey back to Imladris.

The sun finally peeled out behind the clouds, and the sky changed from grey to blue. In the trees behind them, some birds twittered and greeted the sun, and the golden rays felt wonderful warm on Elrohir's face.

Suddenly, Aragorn began to tremble and shiver violently in his arms, and Elrohir quickly bent over him, talking to him and calling his name.

"Estel, please, wake up. Come back to the light, muindor nin. Estel? Estel, can you hear me? Please, I am so sorry, come back to me please. Oh, Estel, please."

The shivers only increased, but Elrohir knew that to be a good sign. Aragorn's body was fighting the coldness, and Elrohir rubbed his brother's arms and chest more vigorously in an attempt to help.

Slowly, the trembling ceased, and after a few more minutes, Aragorn's eyelids fluttered open. He blinked, and then his grey eyes focused on the face above him.

"Elrohir?" Aragorn said with chattering teeth, his whole body still shivering from time to time.

A huge smile formed on Elrohir's face, despite the tears that now flowed freely down his cheeks,

"Aye, Estel. It is me."

"What…are you d-doing here?"

"Oh, Estel, I am so sorry. So sorry." And with that, Elrohir hugged his brother tightly, rocking back and force, all the while murmuring how sorry he was, and telling him how much he loved him, no matter what had happened or what he had done.

It was only many long minutes later, that Elrohir noticed that Aragorn had fallen back into unconsciousness. With a quick thanks to Iluvatar and a prayer that his brother would make the journey, Elrohir lifted Aragorn onto the horse, and then mounted behind him.

"Noro lim, mellon nin, noro lim. We are going home." He said to his horse, and then left the river behind him.

Tbc...


	7. 6 True Healing

**Hello! Here is the last chapter. Enjoy! (reading order: 1, 2, 3, 4a, 5, 6 or 1, 2, 3, 4b, 6)**

**°° Chapter 6: True healing**

The first thing Aragorn felt when he woke was, that the sun was shining on his face, and that it was no longer cold, but warm and cosy. He lay on blankets, with cushions behind his head and soft covers on top of him.

And, he felt that he was not alone.

Unwilling to open his eyes and fall back into reality, a reality where his father and oldest brother looked upon him with anger and contempt, he stayed motionless on the bed, not giving away that he was awake.

And then he also knew what had woken him. A soft whisper filled the room, almost too low to hear, but after so many days alone in his room, with only his thoughts for company, and intently listening for footsteps nearing his door that never came, his ears had learned to pick up event he softest sound.

He could hear the voice of…Elrond! And the voice that answered was Elladans! Strange he thought, that they were now both in his room. Had they finally answered their hearts and ignored what their minds told them? It was almost too much for him to believe, and so the opened his eyes to see for himself that he was not imagining things.

He was not dreaming. There, right beside his window stood his father and oldest brother, whispering too each other in soft voices. Their faces spoke of grief and guilt, but Aragorn was not sure if meant what he hoped it meant.

Suddenly, Elladan turned, and when he saw his opened eyes looking at him, he grabbed his father's forearm and stopped speaking. Elrond turned as well, and immediately he paled. Slowly, as if the movement would hurt him, he took a step towards the bed, but stopped at arms length.

Aragorn did not know what to make out of this. Had they come to see him and make things right, or had they come to tell him to leave again? Had he only dreamed that he had met Elrohir, that his brother had followed him, and that he had tried to apologize? He could not tell, but from the look on their faces, it could be both.

Unconsciously, his breath quickened and his heart began to race inside his chest. He rose into a sitting position, feeling suddenly vulnerable and exposed to their on looking eyes. Licking his lips nervously, a hollow feeling began to spread in his stomach, when neither his father nor brother spoke.

But then suddenly, as if a spell had been broken by his movement, his father spoke, "Estel, I do not know what to say, but I…I am…sorry."

Aragorn snapped his eyes to his father, and what he saw in his eyes was now easy to read. Love. And guilt. Letting his gaze wander to his oldest brother, he could read the same emotions in his eyes as well. Aragorn smiled weakly, not yet sure of the relationship between them.

"You need not say anything. That you are here and talking to me is enough for me."

Tears stung Elrond's eyes at his son's words and he rushed to Aragorn's side and hugged him fiercely. "Oh ion nin, I was so wrong. How could I ever believe that you had committed a crime? And that you had lied to us and dishonoured your house and home? Oh, I was so wrong, ion nin. I am so sorry."

Returning his father's embrace and feeling suddenly light-headed now that his worries and fears were lifted from his shoulders, Aragorn whispered, "And I am sorry too, for not telling you about my wounds and how I come by them from the beginning, and therewith leading you all to come to the wrong conclusions. I am sorry."

Elrond withdrew from the embrace and looked deep into his son's eyes. "Estel, herewith I vow, that I will never again judge you before I have talked to you, no matter the circumstances, I will listen to you and believe what you say."

Aragorn nodded, too overwhelmed with emotions to speak. But then, his eyes fell on Elladan, who still stood near the window and who had not spoken yet.

When his brother's gaze fell upon him, not angered or hateful as Elladan had anticipated, but uncertain and questioning, he felt his knees become weak. Stumbling to Aragorn's side, he took his brother's face in his hands, looked him deep into the eyes and whispered, "Estel, I am so sorry. I said things that I regret and I know I hurt you deeply. I know you cannot forgive me, but…"

"But I already have Dan."

"What?" Elladan sounded surprised beyond measure. "Why?"

Sighing, Aragorn returned his brother's look, "You are here, Elladan, and I can tell by your eyes that you are sorry for what has happened. But alas, it was not your fault alone, and once you have heard the full tale, I hope you can forgive me as well for not confessing in you earlier. I think I was afraid you would reject me, and feel disappointed in me and my abilities."

Elladan looked at him for a long time, but then shook his head, "I would never be disappointed in you, Estel. At least that I know now."

"We all err, but to find the strength to confess our mistakes shows our true worth." Aragorn said with a sight, and indeed, the presence of his family chased away some of the uncertainties that gnawed at his mind; about his strength and qualities as a leader of the rangers, as brother and as son.

A tear slid down Elladan's face and he let his head hang, withdrawing his hands from Aragorn's face. A sob escaped Elladan's lips, and Aragorn felt the grief that emanated from his brother and father.

"Dan, what is it? Father?" He asked confused

It was Elladan who answered, his voice shaking, "I was so afraid Estel, that you would not forgive me for my foolishness. I was blinded by my doubt and emotions, and I apologise to you."

Aragorn was silent for a moment, thinking, but then he gently lifted his brother's face and then looked at the two elves who sat in front of him, "I am not free of guilt, for had I not doubted your love and faith in me from the beginning, this would never have happened. I erred in my judgement of my family, and it is I who should beg your forgiveness. As it is now, perhaps we can all forgive each other, but before that, it is time you learn the truth. Where is Elrohir?"

"He will be here in a moment, he is in the kitchen to get some warm broth and tea. He thought you would wake soon."

Aragorn nodded, and then they waited in silence until Elrohir joined them, and then Aragorn took a deep breath, and told them of all that had happened since he had set out towards the Elostirion with Rogondil. He told them of the betrayal of his ranger, that Rogondil had tried to kill him, he told them about Cederic and how he came by the wounds that marred his back, and he told them about his doubts as a leader of the rangers.

His family listened quietly, and when he ended, a tense silence filled the room. Then, Elrond sighed deeply, and cleared his throat,

"Estel, that is indeed a grave tale, and now I understand your hesitation to show us your wounds and confess in us."

Aragorn flinched at the words, misunderstanding where Elrond's words were leading. Seeing his son flinch, Elrond quickly placed his hand on Aragorn's pale cheek, "Oh no, Estel, you misunderstand me. I am sorry for what happened to you, but from what you tell me, it was not your fault. I know you, ion nin, and I see in you strength and honour, qualities of a leader. I see wisdom and the will to give your life for others, you suffer for your men, and would give all in your might to save them. Estel, I am proud of you, and I see in you all that I ever wanted you to be, and even more."

Aragorn was silent for a moment, then he said hesitatingly, "You…do not think me weak, then? And a bad leader?"

Elrond embraced his son tightly, "Oh no, ion nin. Your heart is stronger than you think."

Aragorn nodded, but Elrond could see that he could not yet believe his words. Now hesitant himself, he asked softly, "Estel, I know we all hurt you by our doubt. Do you think you…do you think you will be able to trust us again?"

Elrond felt like a small child in that moment, not at all like a centuries old elf lord, and he could sense his twin sons tense beside him. Aragorn took a moment to answer, and when he did, his voice was as soft as Elrond's had been.

"It will take time."

Elrond took a deep breath, disappointment and hope settling in his heart at the same time, although he had known what Aragorn's answer would most likely be. But it was not Elrond who spoke next, but Aragorn's voice that filled the room, soft and almost regretting what it said,

"It took years, if not decades for this trust to grow and spread roots. Trust is not given easily, at least not for me, for I face danger and deceit every day. It…it will take time, ada. I am sorry, but that is all I can give you."

"And that is better than I had hoped, Estel. Trust does not come lightly, and so it might take ages to blossom, one storm can destroy it utterly. I hope you will learn to trust us again, and I will do all I can to show you how much you mean to me. I love you, Estel."

And Aragorn nodded and hid his face at his father's shoulder, and so they sat until Aragorn drifted off to sleep. His body was still weak, from the injuries and the cold, but his heart had been strengthened by his father's confession, and lightened by telling of what had happened.

Elrond placed his son back and rearranged the covers around him. He listened to the deep and steady breathing, and to him, the sound was more welcome than rain after months of dry heat, and more soothing than soft silk on weary limbs. Smiling gently, he took in the sleeping form of his son, and he saw the lingering shadows and the thin frame of the man; and he knew that although the first steps had been made, the road to recovery was long and rocky.

°°

A week passed, then two and then three. The snow melted finally, giving way to first greens and white flowers. Birds woke early in the morning and graced the world with their songs, hibernating animals woke from their slumber to roam the forest and life returned to normality.

The wounds on Aragorn's back finally healed, leaving only thin red marks that would vanish with time as well. Most of his strength returned to him, although he still looked thin in comparison to his former figure. It had taken longer for the psychological wounds to heal, but they had all pulled themselves together and for long hours talked about their fears and worries, their uncertainties, hopes and wishes.

It felt good to be so open with his family, and for the first time since months, Aragorn felt truly healthy. The talks with his family not only healed his spirit, but washed away the stain that had for so long lain on his soul, ever since one of his rangers had tried to take his life. And, he knew that his trust and believe in his family, although still fragile in his mind, was strong and rooted in his heart; it would survive whatever came his way.

The day was sunny, and Aragorn leisurely made his way down the corridor towards a balcony to enjoy the warm rays, when suddenly a voice piped up from behind him, "Estel, wait!"

Turning, he saw Elrohir run towards him, raven hair flying behind him. Upon reaching his side, the elf grabbed his sleeve and began to drag him down the corridor.

"Ro, what is it?"

Elrohir glanced over his shoulder, and then back the way they had come. Waving a hand in the air as if to chase away a fly, he answered innocently, "Oh nothing, really. But somehow Elladan thinks it was me who told the Captain of the Guard that Elladan has called his daughter a 'clumsy mumakil'."

Aragorn grinned smugly, "And, have you?"

"Well yes, but that is not the point. It could have been everyone, but no, he immediately suspects me. What kind of brother would do such a thing?"

Still grinning, Aragorn said, "One who knows you and your antics Ro."

Elrohir gave his brother a faked hurt look and then practically carried him down the stairs when Aragorn did not walk fast enough for his liking. Just as they reached the bottom of the stairs and Aragorn had finally enough of being dragged around for no reason, the enraged voice of Elladan resounded from the top of the stairs.

"Elrohir! I swear I am going to kill you, you miserable excuse for a brother!" And with that Elladan rushed down the stairs, murder written on his face.

"Uh oh." Was all Elrohir managed, before he grabbed Aragorn by the shoulders and held him before his own body like a shield.

"Ro!" Aragorn cried exasperatedly, but could not help the silly grin that graced his features.

Having finally reached the bottom of the stairs, Elladan advanced on Elrohir, but the latter simply hid behind Aragorn, spinning the man around every time Elladan tried to reach him.

"Elrohir Elrondion, behave like an elf and do not hide behind Estel. Come out and face me!"

"Why should I do that, dear brother? I like my new weapon. The…Elladan-reflector!"

"You…" Elladan growled, but by now Aragorn was helpless with laughter. His breast heaved in an effort to force enough air in his lungs and tears of joy pricked his eyes.

Dimly he was aware that Elrohir shook him slightly, whispering desperately, "Estel, please, he will kill me. Come on, pull yourself together."

But the plea of his brother only served to make him laugh harder; and it seemed his laughter was contagious and soon Elladan and Elrohir laughed as well, finally seeing the funny side of the whole affair.

Pointing a finger at Elrohir, but still giggling madly, Elladan threatened, "Next time, it will be you who finds himself chased by the whole guard! I swear."

"Oh, really? Whatever you tell them, they would not believe you, for you are a bad liar, Dan."

"Oh is that so? And what about the time I told ada that…"

And so it went on for some time, until the chuckles and giggles finally subsided and the three brothers settled down on one of the balconies to enjoy the warm rays of the sun in comfortable silence, soon joined by their father.

Normally returned to the Last Homely House, and all felt that this time, the emotional peace they found among them would last for many more years to come.

The End.

_Yes, the end. It was fun writing, and thank you all so much for the kind reviews, they mean a lot to me and encourage me to write. Until next time!_


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